


picking up the pieces

by tragicamente



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 20:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tragicamente/pseuds/tragicamente
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James survives Voldemort's attack, but Lily does not. Sirius helps him pick up the pieces and raise his son. [Request by  dramaphile]</p>
            </blockquote>





	picking up the pieces

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ.

When they were seventeen James was the world. James and Sirius. Sirius and James. _JamesandSirius_. They were constantly a pair and no-one knew them as otherwise.

 _It’s funny_ , Sirius thinks, alcohol misting his brain. He waits for James to ask _what?_ and then he realises he hasn’t said it out loud.

“It’s funny.” He says and James cracks open an eye, looking at him curiously.

 “What is?” James grunts, he’s clutching a bottle of some green stuff in one hand and his glasses lie next to his head. Sirius rolls over and faces him, stares at his black hair and hazel eyes and white skin. _James._

“I’m a little bit in love with you.”

James grins, puckers his lips, “who wouldn’t be?”

Sirius feels his arms go numb, he stops leaning on his elbows and falls by James’ side again – _yeah_.

-

Sirius thought if there was anyone he could give James to, it would have to be Lily - Lily with her fiery hair and wild eyes and sensible ways - so he’s grateful that she’s the one who takes him. Grateful that James falls in love with her and not someone Sirius would have to pretend to like. At least he knows he can be jealous for a reason, and at least he knows James’ heart is safe.

“Be good.” He tells James on his wedding day, _I love you_ , he thinks helplessly. “Fuck her hard.”

James throws back his head in laughter, draws him into a hug. His voice is trembling as he whispers into Sirius’ ear: “you’ll visit, won’t you?”

Sirius looks at him sadly; lies: _sure._ Somehow he doesn’t think he’s fooled James since he wraps his arms around him tighter, presses a feather-light kiss to his cheek before he walks over to his bride. Sirius watches him go, says his goodbye to Remus and Peter and then he disappears, listening to the purr of his motorcycle as he drives down the motorway.

-

Sirius has a drawer filled with letters and invitations all signed with a flourish by _James and Lily Potter_. 

He never replies. But the letters keep on coming.

The only one he ever replies to is signed both by Dumbledore and James. Sirius doesn’t think twice. If James is in trouble – he wants to be there.

-

“I’m too easy. They’ll know it’s me.”

He remembers saying that, he remembers pushing that responsibility away and now he wonders why he did it. Fuck. He would have died for James and now James might be dead _because of him_.

He can’t seem to urge his bike to fly flaster.

-

Sirius stumbles through the wreckage, he fights the impulse to retch and when he finds James he falls to his knees. Dirt lodges itself underneath his nails as he digs and digs and he finds James unconscious, blood smeared across his face. Harry is underneath him, tears building in his eyes even if he doesn’t understand what’s going on.

“James! James, _oh god, James._ ”

-

Sirius moves in with James soon after, in a crappy, temporary flat in the heart of London. The wallpaper is peeling and there is a draft but it has a bedroom, a kitchen, a bathroom, carpeted floors and that is enough.

But the walls are thin, and as Sirius tries to fall asleep on the lumpy sofa, he can hear James crying and sometimes he will wake to find Harry in James’ arms, both puffy-eyed and exhausted. He goes to make coffee, because that is all he can do, and he feels so helpless.

James wanders around with a blank look on his face, dark circles round his eyes. As the rest of the wizarding world celebrates the death of the Dark Lord, James is numb, oblivious. The only thing that draws him out of his shell is Harry, who snorts and gurgles and throws things at his head. But Harry has Lily’s eyes and sometimes Sirius sees James is on the edge so he swoops in and takes the baby and plays with him in the corner. He uses bright, coloured bricks to distract the child from his father’s momentary detachment; he causes sparks to erupt from the end of his wand as James gathers his composure.

“Alright?” He says, aiming for casual.

“It’s good.” James replies, seating himself next to Harry, running a hand through the boy’s hair.

“Isn’t it Harry?”

Sirius gets caught up for a moment, just watching James. James as a father. He remembers James at seventeen, lying on the dewy grass, face flushed and lips parted and so goddamn beautiful. The James he sees now is drawn and tight and he still can’t help wanting him, because it’s always James. _James_.

-

_I want to kill him. I want to rip him apart._

_You can’t do anything, he’s on the run. We’ve tried looking for him, but nothing so far._

_Shit, bugger, bollocks._

_Sirius? Don’t do anything stupid - and don’t let James do anything stupid._

-

Harry is small, very small and Sirius thinks _how? How did he survive?_ He can see the little, fluttering pulse beat beneath his wrists. Sirius knows just how breakable a human being is. _How?_

He’s not the only one who wants to know and there are reporters at their door in the morning. Sirius tells them to fuck off, because lord knows James doesn’t need this right now.

“They’re calling him the One Who Lived.” Sirius says as he steps back into the kitchen, running a hand over his face.

“Well, the One Who Lived doesn’t even know how to eat properly.” James mutters as Harry throws more pea-coloured mush on the floor.

-

_He did this. He took this all away from me._

_James, James, listen to me. Harry needs you, your_ son _needs you. His mother is gone, don’t you dare let him take away his father too._

-

It is past midnight. He can’t sleep. Sirius paces the dark corridor, biting his fingernails. He eyes the phone warily, contemplates whether it is too late or not. _Screw it_ , he thinks and picks up the phone, dialling quickly, as if that makes it easier.

He holds his breath as the phone rings, heart spluttering wildly in his chest. The voice on the other end is crackly and small.

“Oui? Allô?” Remus’ voice is groggy.

“Any leads yet?”  Sirius blurts out, unable to contain himself. He’s feeling restless and he doesn’t want to go through niceties.

“Sirius?” Remus asks, pointlessly because he already knows it’s him. “Sirius, you do know what time it is, right?” He can hear Remus shuffling, imagines him swinging his feet out of bed, glancing at the clock. “Oh never mind, no, not yet. We can’t find him anywhere.”

Sirius’ anger bubbles, threatening to spill.

“That little _rat_.”

“Calm down, Padfoot. I know. I know.”

Remus’ voice is oddly soothing, Sirius always found that kind of funny seeing as he was definitely not at all calming once a month, but Remus’ voice does have this odd effect on people. Sirius sucks in a deep breath.

“I don’t know what to do.” He mutters into the receiver as he cradles it in his hands.

“Just be there for him.”

“God, Moony, you should see him, he’s not James, he’s…” Sirius breaks off, sighing.

“Want me to come over?” Remus asks, hesitating slightly. Sirius thinks about it for a moment, he imagines Remus in France, busy with his administrative work. He glances over at the open bedroom door, can see James asleep with his mouth slightly open.

“No, no. It’s okay. I can handle it.”

“It’s just James.” Remus says reassuringly from the other end. Sirius slumps, hits the doorframe absentmindedly with his toe. _That’s the problem_.

“Yeah, thanks, Moony.”

Sirius hangs up, feeling more relaxed now, and he goes to sit by James, curls a hand around his. James doesn’t wake up but Sirius hopes he can feel him anyway, hopes he realises that Sirius is _here_.

- 

He sidesteps James occasionally, tiptoeing round all the emotions and the pain. It’s like that game they used to play where you couldn’t step on the lines in the pavement: ‘step on the crack, break your mother’s back’, and Sirius feels like he’s always about to slip. It feels different and he’s so used to blocking himself off from James ever since the marriage that suddenly being in his space again – well, it’s strange and different and wonderful. And Sirius feels guilty that he’s so happy to be with him again, even as James crumbles silently around him.

-

When Sirius walks into the kitchen, tired and throat sore from story-telling time with Harry he finds James at the kitchen table. Shoulders hunched over himself and his head in his hands. His black-rimmed glasses are on the table, the glass smudged with fingerprints. Sirius’ heart clenches slightly, and he takes the seat next to James, lets their legs bump companionably together. He rests a hand on James’ thigh, wanting to comfort, wanting to help.

“It’s okay, mate -” Sirius begins to say, desperate to try make things better, desperate to ignore the ache bleeding out from all corners.

“No, it’s not. Stop it. Stop treating me like I’m going to break any second because I don’t need that from you. I don’t want that from you. I need _Sirius_. Not _this._ Not pretend.” He gestures angrily in the space between them.

Sirius moves forward startled. James’ eyes without his glasses are penetrating. They’re more captivating then before, all speckled green and brimming with _everything_. _Shit,_ Sirius thinks, in a moment of realisation. He’s been so stupid trying to be anything but _JamesandSirius_ ,even after there was a James and Lily and he believed he didn’t belong anymore. Even after trying to keep away to allow James to be happy, even after trying so fucking hard not to love him like he does. He realises he shouldn’t have ever thought there would be anything else. He rests his forehead on James’; breathes in.

“You git.” Sirius says and feels James chuckle softly.

“You’re a git.”

James turns and Sirius opens. He opens and wraps himself around James who is broken and needing and Sirius wonders if he’ll ever be able to close himself off again.

 “It’s my fault.” James says brokenly, voice edged with shattered glass. “I couldn’t protect her. _God_ , Sirius, I couldn’t protect her.”

Sirius can feels his shirt become wet with tears. He doesn’t try to say anything. He draws James closer, feels the rhythmic beating of his heart. Sirius follows James to bed that night, wraps himself around him, comfort on its most basic level.

They wake up the next morning, James’ feet tangled around Sirius’ ankles and Sirius’ nose pressed into James’ hair. Sirius has moved his stuff from the living room into the bedroom by lunchtime.

-

The telephone ring is shrill and piercing. It slices through his dream and brings him out of slumber. James removes his arm from Sirius’ waist as Sirius struggles into an upright position.

“Shall I get it?” James mumbles sleepily, burying his head into a pillow.

“No, no. Stay here.”  Sirius stumbles out of bed, his bare feet meeting the cold floor. He manages to make it to the phone only bumping into one chair and there is an ominous silence as soon as he’s picked it up.

“Sirius?”

“Yes?”

“Sirius, we’ve found him. We’ve found him.” Sirius’ heart plunges into his stomach.

“Holy – well, where is he?”

“He’s in London.”

“That son of a bitch.”

“Now, Padfoot –”

“Where in London? _Where_?”

“We think he’s in Victoria. I’m on my –”

In France, the line goes dead. Sirius runs both hands through his hair; his mind is racing. He knows his wand is still in the bedroom and if he moves now he can get to Victoria in ten minutes, if he runs.

He moves as if in a dream.

“What’s wrong?” James asks, voice sleepy and muffled.

”Nothing, go back to sleep.”

There’s something in his voice though, that he can’t hide. Something wild and frantic and James sits up to that tone, groping for his glasses.

“Padfoot. Christ, talk to me. What’s happened?”

“Take care of Harry, don’t go out and do not leave your wand.”

“Sirius!”

The door of their apartment slams shut behind him as he walks out onto the streets of London.

-

The blood flowing through his veins feels like acid, he’s burning on the inside and he can see red behind his eyes. All he can think of is how much he is going to kill Peter. How much he is going to make him pay for what he did to James, for killing Lily and leaving his James battered and bruised and broken.

Victoria train station is large and open, lit by cold, orange lights. There are empty trains sitting on the tracks and Sirius is suddenly no longer a man and he is fur and teeth and his senses are suddenly sharp.

The scent of rat is nearby.

It’s been a while since he’s done this, running with padded feet and his tongue lolling between his teeth. And time passes like the rushing of sand and he is searching, sniffing through dust and dirt and – _there._

He catches Peter through the leg, canine biting down, and the blood drips around his mouth. Senseless, burning, revenge and he is exultant, murderous –

“Padfoot?”

He tilts his head, and the dog in him wants to run to James, jump up and lick his face, and he trots over to him dangling Peter between his jaws like a prize. For a second there is nothing and then he is a man again, naked and clutching at Peter with all his might. His nails dig into Peter’s flesh.

“Harry?” he asks, a sudden wild panic flooding through him as he imagines the boy alone at home.

“He’s in safe hands.” James says and Sirius sees him as if for the first time. He stands firm and tall and he just stares at Peter. “Hand him over.” James says and Sirius feels strangely possessive for a moment, but it is only the dog in him and he hands the rat over. As soon as he is in James’ hands Sirius goes to his clothes, pulls on the ripped items, reaching instinctively for his wand first.

“James, we can do this. We can end this now.”

“You can go.”

“What?”

“I’m not letting you become a murderer. Not for me. ”

 _As if I’d do it for anyone else,_ Sirius thinks, always shocked by how little James notices sometimes. James looks hard, looks and acts tough but Sirius _knows_ him. Really _knows_ him and so he goes to stand by his side, slots himself into _his_ place.

“Think you could do this without me? God, you’re an idiot.”

Sirius’ wand presses into Peter’s side, forcing him to transform. A dirty, round, greyed Peter stands before them – trembling.

“I can’t go to Azkaban! James, Sirius, please. Don’t give up on me. It’s Peter, your old friend.” His voice is slimy and slithers past Sirius’ ears

“You gave up on anything we shared the day you ever called that monstrosity Lord! Ever since you betrayed James!”

“James, I’m so sorry, sweet, James, you always protected me. I was so scared.”

“Padfoot, don’t do it.” James’ voice is pained and quiet, and something in it touches Sirius. He lowers his wand a fraction of an inch and suddenly there is a flash of light and James is down and Sirius doesn’t have to even think. He stuns Peter, with as much force as he can muster, _maybe he won’t be able to breathe_ , he thinks bitterly, running to James’ side.

“James, breathe. Breathe. Fucking breathe or I will kill you.”

James coughs slightly, jerking in Sirius’ arms. “Can’t kill me if I’m already dead.” He says, all half-smiles and wheezing.

“Ha ha, you are so fucking funny, you know that? You’re hilarious –  ”

“Sirius –”

“Stupid and hilarious –”

“Shhh.” James reaches up, tugs on Sirius hair and then he is falling, falling forward and James catches him, all mouth and tongue and bony fingers in his hair. They break apart and James quirks his lips into a smile, as if sharing a joke with himself.

“I’m a little bit in love with you.” He says, still smiling.

Sirius breathes out, his heart splutters to life and _oh god_.

“About bloody time.” And they are kissing again, Sirius’ fingers buried in James’ jacket, teeth nipping at his lower lip. The light hits _everything_.

-

The air feels warm compared to the inside. Sirius is glad to have stepped out of Azkaban, relishes the slap of rain against his face.  Inside – it feels like you can’t breathe.

There doesn’t seem to be any satisfaction, he just feels cold. Nothing is ever the same after being betrayed by a friend. He feels angry, angry at Peter for ruining everything they ever built. They were _the Marauders_. He huffs; that name used to mean so much more. He stands a moment longer, imagines Peter in his cell, re-living the most horrible moments of his life over and over again. Sirius shudders, pushes Peter out of his mind and thinks of James. James who is waiting for him at home, and Harry who keeps growing bigger and older and will one day be brilliant. Just like James. 

-

“Did you see him?”

“Yeah.” Sirius replies, leaning against the kitchen counter, nails drawing lines in the wood. James looks defeated. “Why doesn’t it seem to make things better?”

“I don’t know.”

They stay together in silence, lost in their own thoughts. Sirius feels the silence close in on him, oppressive and terrifying. He just keeps thinking of that cold, lonely cell. He snaps out of it as James rests a hand on his shoulder, eyes questioning. He leans forward and presses his lips to Sirius’. Sirius feels James on him, warm and solid.

  
“Relax. We’re okay.”

  
Sirius looks into James’ eyes, he steals another kiss, always wanting. It’s ridiculous. He feels like a teenager again because every time he sees James he just wants to kiss him. On the lips, on his shoulder, he wants to lick that tendon in his neck and he wants to press him against the counter and make him moan and god, he wants to make him laugh. He wants James to throw his head back, expose the line of his jaw and laugh until he cries and he wants to kiss him. He wants to kiss him into oblivion and they crash together so violently sometimes that Sirius sees stars. He looks at the curve of James’ jaw, sees himself ten years from now, waving Harry off as the Hogwarts Express chugs out of the train station.

“Yeah, I know.”

 


End file.
